


Take This to Your Grave

by viva_hate



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Work In Progress, zombie-ish au?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 01:15:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21502873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viva_hate/pseuds/viva_hate
Summary: The thing is, sometimes what we wish was forgotten, what we try to leave in the past, won’t stay there. Sometimes it comes back. In which Richie Tozier is a clueless comedian, Eddie Kaspbrak is acting weird, and Pennywise may be defeated, but that won't stop him from terrorizing the losers one last time.
Relationships: Benverly, Reddie - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	Take This to Your Grave

“I’m getting a plane ticket tonight,” came the raspy voice of Richie Tozier from across the table. “No way in hell am I spending another night in this place.”

“I already looked at the flights, earliest you could get is late tomorrow,” Piped up a very reasonable Bill Denbrough. Objectively speaking, Bill was the smartest person Richie had ever met, but he still wasn’t bright enough to realize that trying to reason with Richie while he was in one of his moods was a pointless effort.

“You could drive back home,” Ben offered.

“He’s been drinking since he woke up, he’s not driving anywhere,” Mike added next.

“Guys,” Beverly demanded, and the room fell silent. “Leave him alone.” She got up from the table, abandoning the untouched breakfast on the plate in front of her, and left the room. “Come on, Richie,” she said on her way out the door with a light touch on his shoulder as she passed his seat.

Richie didn’t hesitate to excuse himself and follow her out of the kitchen and out onto the townhouse’s back patio.

“I’ll drive you if you need to get out of here,” Bev said as soon as the door was closed behind the both of them. “Mikey’s right, you shouldn’t get behind the wheel right now.” She was digging a cigarette out of her pack and then passing it over to Richie, who took one without thinking.  
They hadn’t done this since they were kids, but it still came like second nature. Muscle memory, probably.

It seemed like Bev had never quit, the way she lit the cigarette with ease seemed well practiced, engrained after thirty years of the habit. Richie had quit on and off ever since he left Derry, only dropping it cold turkey when his comedy took off and he actually started to worry about things like yellow teeth, and wrinkles, and his voice getting all scratchy.

“You don’t have to drive me anywhere,” Richie said stubbornly. The only thing worse than staying in this town would be taking a piece of it with him.

“So you’ll stay here the extra night?”

“Fine.”

“You won’t be alone, Richie. We’re all in this together, remember?”

“Yeah,” Richie said, taking a drag. It was easy for her to say. She had Ben to keep her sane while they stuck around. Mike had been here for so long he was used to it, he was ecstatic just to have his friends around now, and Bill was so caught up trying to get in touch with his wife he wasn't very good company either.

Richie usually had Eddie for moments like this but now he only had a painful reminder that he was alone.

Stan is gone. Eddie is gone. Richie is alone.

They finished their smoke in silence and went back inside together. The rest of the losers were finishing up their breakfast, Bill taking all the plates to the sink where Mike was beginning to wash them.

"I'm going back to my room," Richie told them, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets as he made a beeline for the stairs.

"Hey, Rich, not so fast," Ben called out and Richie froze, one foot on the first step as Ben whipped around the corner to meet him.

"Want to go to the fair?"

"The what?"

"Canal Days. Right downtown. They've got rides, and games, and popcorn and stuff."

Richie had completely forgotten that the stupid carnival was still going on. It had totally blanked his mind in the past few days. Compared to all the monster hunting chaos they had to deal with it slipped his radar, but he had noticed when they first got into town.

Seeing it had brought back a handful of memories that were much easier to remember now, but when It's curse still hung over them it was just little snippets. Spitting off the top of the ferris wheel, watching ol' Haystack blow chunks in the trashcan after getting off the Tilt-A-Whirl, Eddie constantly stealing bites of Richie's cotton candy then complaining that his hands were sticky and insisting they find a bathroom for him to wash them in.

They were all good memories, which was sort of a rarity for Derry.

“Hell no.”

“You need to get out of your head, Richie.” Ben threw an arm around Richie’s shoulders and nudged him. “It’ll do you some good.

When Richie had first shown up at the restaurant Mike said to meet at he hadn’t recognized Ben at all. There wasn’t a spark of familiarity in him until he saw Beverly and made the connection that holy shit that must be Haystack. In the few dangerous seconds that passed where Richie saw Ben, but didn’t see Bev, so he had no clue who Ben was, he almost asked him to go back to the Inn with him.

Well, not almost. But he thought about it. Richie thought quite thoroughly about waltzing up to the ridiculously hot stranger and asking him bluntly if he wanted to go back to his place. Getting laid seemed like a way better idea than Mikey’s fucking dinner.

But as much as he talked a big game, Richie wasn’t that forward. He didn’t ask Ben to bang his brains out in his hotel room, and upon learning who he really was, Richie had to cope with the fact that he almost (sort of almost, thought about it) tried to seduce his childhood best friend.

So Richie caving as soon as Ben slung a carefree arm around him had more to do with the fact that Ben was so close to him and Richie was just as touch starved as Ben was gorgeous than it did with Richie having any desire to actually go out right now.

But reluctantly Richie shrugged on a heavier coat and went out with the rest of the loser’s, thinking bitterly that if Eddie were around they’d still be inside, waiting for him to put on a pair of mittens and position his scarf the right way so he wouldn’t get pneumonia or something.

As a kid the fair was just about the coolest thing any of them could imagine. They could waste time there for hours with all the rides, and the candy, and the different games. Stepping into canal days was like stepping into another world, a beacon of light in the otherwise shitty, and all around boring town they lived in. It was a necessary reminder that there was a world beyond Derry where kids didn’t go missing, where all they had to worry about was where to spend their last five tickets. Everything was alright for a while.

Coming back as an adult did not have the same affect. Richie was starting to think that maybe he lost his sense of joy, but looking around the other’s seemed just as unimpressed as he was.  
The smell of popcorn and hot dogs was kind of nauseating as it wafted toward them in the breeze, the rides groaned as carts sped over tracks and there was a stain that looked suspiciously like vomit already soaking into the pavement by the pretzel stand.

“I feel like I remember this being cooler,” Bev spoke up.

“Took the words right out of my fucking mouth,” Bill agreed.

Not even Ben, who had been so eager to drag Richie along earlier could think of anything optimistic to say.

It was Mike who tried to soften everyone’s harsh opinion. “Everything’s cooler as a kid. You need to enjoy it for what it is now, not how you remember it.”

“Bullshit,” Richie finally chimed in, “this fucking blows.”

Ben sighed. “What the hell, I’ll give it a shot.” He clapped Mike on the back and made a beeline to the balloon darts game. Mike followed close behind him, eager to get in on the action.

“I’m getting cotton candy then,” Bill decided with a defeated sigh, “want anything?”

“A slow and painful death.”

“Not you, Richie. Bev?”

She smiled as she shook her head and Bill went his separate way as well. Beverly pulled out her pack of cigarettes again and Richie took one graciously. She was trying to corner him, but there was something so comforting about her presence that Richie didn’t even mind.

“Are you sure you don’t want to ride anything?” she offered.

“Pretty fucking positive,” Richie scoffed, taking a seat on the nearest bench and lighting up. “I don’t know how you’re all just… moving on. Going to the fucking fair like we weren’t an inch from death two fucking days ago.”

“Richie, I know you miss him but-”

“But what! This isn’t even about Eddie-well it’s kind of about Eddie but it’s more than that too!”

“Then what is it?” she asked, calmer than ever.

“Is that even a question? We just did this-this thing! This big, terrible, life changing thing and it’s not normal now! We can’t just go back to how things were after something like this, it’s like no one else is even grasping how huge of a thing this is we almost died!”

“But we didn’t-”

“But Eddie did!”  
“I didn’t. You didn’t, Richie. Ben didn’t.”

“So that’s what’s keeping you sane?” He took a frustrated puff of his cigarette and held it between his lips, running his hands through his hair then snatching the smoke back and flicking the ash off. “We don’t all get to fuck our childhood crush to make everything better-”

“Richie-”

“He wasn’t even your childhood crush! If I remember correctly-” which he still wasn’t entirely sure he did- “it was Bill! So what’s got you so interested in Ben now, huh? Is it because he’s hot now? Are you really that goddamn shallow that you won’t look twice at him before, but as soon as he drops the weight you’re all over him?”

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” Beverly demanded, finally losing her temper. “When did you turn into such a dick?”

“I’ve always been a dick,” Richie assured her, now managing to keep his voice at a regular volume rather than flat out yelling.

“You’ve always teased me relentlessly but you’ve never been so blatantly fucking mean. I know you’re upset about him, we all are.”

“Don’t even pretend you know how I feel right now,” Richie scoffed.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Bev said, clearly irritated now. “We’re all upset, but I know it’s hitting you deeper. You guys were… you guys. You were always closer.”

“Can we not talk about this? Please?”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know how you’re feeling right now, but you can’t take it out on me, Richie. If there’s anything I can do to help you I will in a heartbeat, but don’t be a dick. Eddie wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“Beverly,” Richie snapped, dropping the cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out with the toe of his beat up sneaker. “We’re not having this talk.”

He got to his feet and stalked off without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

“Richie, don’t-” Bev tried weakly, but he was already gone, back to the Inn by the looks of it.  
Bill came back a moment later with bright blue cotton candy on a stick, picking off chunks and looking after Richie with a puzzled expression. “What’s his problem?” he asked, offering the candy to Beverly.

“He’s upset about Eddie,” she told him, and Bill nodded.

He took Richie’s spot on the bench and bumped Beverly’s shoulder with his own, offering her a small smile. “He’ll come around,” Bill promised.

Beverly didn’t look convinced but she smiled back anyway. “I hope so.”

On the other side of the fairgrounds Ben and Mike were blissfully unaware of the tension going on between their friends, laughing as they threw dulled down darts at balloons, getting increasingly frustrated as they couldn’t get any to pop. Their laughter filled the air, carefree and childlike.

Bill and Beverly sat on the bench sharing jokes and cotton candy, wide grins on both their faces as they spoke easily. The tension that used to hang around them had dissolved. It didn’t happen all at once, but slowly the romantic feelings faded and the friendly ones grew until they cared for each other like brother and sister. Just as close as they always had been, but without all the butterflies. At some point since they reunited Beverly had fallen hard and fast for Ben and Bill, who despite everything was very much in love with his wife, was just happy to see her happy. They chatted and laughed away all the negativity from earlier, and the anger and guilt that had been swirling around Bev’s head from the argument with Richie slowly started to dissipate.

Richie was back at the Inn, all the grief and sorrow that had been plaguing him since the sewers still refusing to come out, manifesting as anger instead. He had never been good at showing sadness, terrified of being perceived as weak. It took a lot to get Richie to cry these days, and he hadn’t cried over Eddie since the loser’s took a dip immediately following his death. He stormed around his little room picking up clothes and shoving them into his duffel bag. They were unfolded, unorganized, and dirty, but he didn’t care. He’d probably throw the whole bag in the dumpster anyway when he got back to LA, didn’t want anything to remind him of this stupid trip back to his hometown. He wished desperately that they would just forget again, but from the looks of it that wasn’t going to happen this time around. He remembered more and more about his forgotten past everyday and the memories stuck, no signs of them slipping away anytime soon. Damn it. All he had to do was get through the rest of the day. If he could make it through today, then he’d wake up tomorrow, head to the airport, and be able to go the fuck home, finally. At least Los Angeles was far, far away from all of this. It hadn’t been tainted with this whole experience, with all these people. He wouldn’t think about how that was Eddie’s favorite tree, or how Stanley used to sit on that bench on weekends when he was birdwatching, or how Bowers pinned him up against that building and called him a ‘dirty fucking fairy’.

Just one more day Richie kept telling himself as he threw open drawer after drawer in the dresser to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. It felt good to pack. It meant he was finally getting the fuck out of there.

The rest of the day passed impossibly slow. Like time had decided to slow down for one night only as a final ‘fuck you’ to Richie Tozier. He passed time by walking down to the old corner store and getting a pack of cigarettes of his own. He took a walk down Main Street and dove into the pack.

Every building he passed came with it’s own wave of memories, but instead of trying to block them out he let himself remember them, let the feelings that came with them wash over him. Some were good, most were bad. Racing bikes down the main street, lots of late night walks because he couldn’t stand to be at home, usually with Bill. There was the ally he ducked into to hide from Bowers, and there was the ice cream place he’d always drag Eddie to, and he’d always insist on buying Eddie’s cone.

He let his feet lead the way without much conscious effort on his part. Maybe his mind was more at work than he gave it credit for though, because soon enough he ended up at the one spot in town he had tried to avoid like the plague, but still kept coming back to. The grass was more overgrown than it was when he was young, it didn’t get as many visitors now as it used to. The kissing bridge had always been something Richie envied. Kids in love would carve their names in the wood together, hold hands as they crossed. Imagining how many first dates, first kisses, first loves that were cemented on that bridge had made young Richie sick with a bitter envy that that couldn’t be him. It would never be him, he used to think. He would never get to hold hands with the person he loved without a care in the world because he didn’t want to be a fairy. He didn’t want to be a flaming faggot, he just wanted to be himself but apparently those two choices were mutually exclusive.

Adult Richie felt guilty as he realized all of the fears that plagued his younger self had come true. He was forty years old and single as they come. He had never had a serious relationship in his life, never been on cheesey, heartfelt dates with lots of hand holding and heart eyes. He was still too terrified to let any of his feelings leave the walls of his apartment, and no one wanted to be a secret. Richie didn’t blame any of his past lovers for not sticking around.

The initials he had carved in the wood stuck out to him like a sore thumb. To anyone else it would blend right in, their eyes would pass right over it without a second thought but to Richie it jumped right out. He was terrified someone would know, like they’d walk past and the initials would scream to them that hey! Trashmouth Tozier is a dirty little faggot! Trashmouth Tozier carved a boy’s name in the kissing bridge! But no one had ever noticed, so the initials weren’t really as loud as he thought they were.

He kept walking, not wanting to stop and let the weight of the initials he carved sink in. Some things were still too painful. He kept smoking too. Kept smoking until the pack was half empty and his throat was sore. Mentally exhausted and filled with new old memories he finally headed back to the Inn. His cheeks were streaked with dried tears he hadn’t had the energy to wipe away until he was opening the door to the Inn. All the noise from inside when Richie opened the door alerted him to the fact that the loser’s had returned. Figures. He hadn’t been keeping track of time but he was gone at least a couple hours, it was getting later in the day, they couldn’t stay at the fair forever.

“Hey, Richie!” Bill called from somewhere inside, the kitchen presumably, “want a drink?”

Richie ignored him, walking with purpose directly to the stairs and up to his room. Their voices carried in the old building. Muffled and distant he heard their worry.

“Should we check on him?”

“Just give him space.”

“We should all be together.”

“He just needs time.”

Richie chose his favorite rock album from the music on his phone and turned it up as loud as it would go. He turned the ringer off and set it on the side table next to his bed. It was hardly dinner time, but Richie kicked his way under the covers regardless and tried to go to sleep. He wasn’t tired, and he had been having trouble sleeping at a normal hour as of late, but if he closed his eyes long enough Richie could sleep through anything. He had no idea how long he laid there, eyes stubbornly squeezed shut as he listened to the loud guitars blasting from his phone speakers, but eventually he drifted off.

_“I thought for sure you were going to die back there.”_

_“I would have if it wasn’t for you carrying me out,” Eddie said softly from his hospital bed, warm and safe under a pile of blankets. There was a smile stretched across his lips, lopsided from the wound in his cheek that still hurt to move. Richie hated Bowers for a lot of things, but fucking up Eddie’s smile was probably the worst of it all. He didn’t have an ounce of regret for killing the fucker. Despite it being uneven, it was still beautiful, it shone like the fucking sun._

_“Does it hurt?”_

_“Of course it hurts, dumbass. I was kabobed by the clown. It’s gonna take at least a couple weeks for that one to stop stinging.”_

_They both smiled, Eddie even managed a chuckle which quickly turned into a wince._

_“Do you want me to call over a nurse? Get you some more morphine?” Richie took Eddie’s hand in his own, and Eddie didn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together._

_“The morphine doesn’t help,” Eddie said miserably, “it still hurts.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Richie sighed, “is there anything I can do to help you?”_

_“Just being around helps… actually, there is something.”_

_Richie leaned forward earnestly. “I’m listening. What is it?”_

_“You could kiss me.”_

_“I- what?”_

_“I know your secret, Richie. I know how you feel about me, and I feel the same way.”_  
_“Are you being serious?”_

_Eddie rolled his eyes, that same lopsided grin sneaking back onto his face as he did his best to sit up. He grabbed Richie by the back of the neck, because one of them had to make the first move, and pulled him into a kiss._

_Richie tensed for a moment, completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t stupid enough to fuck this up, and he kissed back. His tall form awkwardly bent over the hospital bed with Eddie’s fingers curling in his hair. Eddie tasted sweet, just like Richie had always imagined. Like bubblegum and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on._

_He sucked Eddie’s bottom lip into his mouth earning a moan from the shorter man beneath him, which was the single hottest thing Richie had ever witnessed. Maybe it was a good thing it took them this long to get around to this because if Richie was seventeen again he’s sure that noise alone would have made him jizz his pants. Eddie parted his lips expectantly and Richie wasn’t one to keep him waiting, tracing his bottom lip with his tongue before plunging between Eddie’s parted lips. The bubblegum taste disappeared and what Richie found instead was something that tasted so foul he was jumping back in an instant, spluttering and wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve._

_Eddie’s lips weren’t wet and pink like they had been moments before, they were green tinged and scabby, his bottom lip was half disappeared, like it had actually rotted off. His mouth hung open at a weird angle like his jaw had dislocated on one side. His remaining teeth were black and chipped, and maggots were writhing inside his mouth and down the bottom half of his face._  
_Richie coughed into the crook of his arm, sick to his stomach, and when he looked down he saw maggots wriggling on his own sleeve where he had been coughing. Now he was really sick, making a beeline to the trashcan in the corner of the room and blowing chunks. He could feel more insects being forced from his mouth as he vomited, which only made him sicker._  
_When there was nothing left in his stomach to expel he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand with a shudder and turned back to the hospital bed with wide eyes._

_“What are you?” Richie asked in horror, but received no answer from Eddie-or not Eddie. The rotted thing that had taken his place on the bed. His eyes, once sparkly brown and lively were glazed over and thick as mud, unmoving. The only indication that it wasn’t a corpse in the bed was that his stupid, rotting lips twisted into a terrible smirk._

_He didn’t have to say anything for Richie to know he-it, was mocking him. Calling him a fairy, and an idiot for thinking he had a chance. Richie just stared, the taste of rot settling in his mouth as the grin on Eddie’s face got wider and wider until it started to rip the skin._

Riche shot up in bed in a cold sweat, eyes darting around the room while his chest heaved with panicked breaths. Everything looked unfamiliar in the most eerie moments of waking up, the moments where you don’t remember where you are, or what was dream and what’s real life.  
Slowly the outline of the room came into view as Richie got his glasses back on his face and his eyes adjusted to the dark.

He was in Derry. His room in the Inn. His hand shot to his face as he frantically felt around his lips and cheeks. No maggots, thank god. He did a test cough into his palm and nope, no maggots. Slowly his heart rate started to slow back down to normal, and he pushed sweaty hair off his forehead with a sigh. “It was just a dream,” he whispered to himself in the still silence of the room. “It was just a dream.”

Richie collapsed back on the pillow and tried once again to fall asleep.

At the same time in the room next to his Beverly curled up closer to Ben, who was sleeping soundly with his arms around her. He was snoring, but she didn’t mind. Tom always slept silently through the night, the snoring was a welcome change. Besides, she thought it was kind of cute. She curled as close as she could to his loud breathing, kind of sweaty, shirtless chest and closed her eyes, drifting off with a smile on her face.

Bill and Mike were still downstairs. They lost track of how many drinks they had, but they were laughing hysterically at jokes that weren’t funny, and smiling through all the pain they had been through these past few days, so it was definitely too many. Bill was the one who decided it was time to turn in for the night, and the pair embraced like brothers before heading off to their separate rooms.

Mike had been staying in Eddie’s room after that night in the sewers. It wasn’t being used and he didn’t want to sleep alone at his own place, it all seemed right at the time, but Eddie’s room was hard to sleep in. Mike had moved all of Eddie’s clothes from where they were hung in the closet and folded them neatly back into his suitcases. It hurt too much to see his things out in the open. He laid down in the bed that wasn’t his, on the pillow that still smelt vaguely of Eddie’s shampoo and fell asleep.

In Bill’s room he lay curled up under the covers, phone in hand as he typed out a good night message to Audra who still hadn’t texted him back. She had been giving him the cold shoulder since he took off to Derry against her wishes, in the middle of the filming for their movie. That didn’t stop his persistence though, every morning and night without fail Bill would send her a message. He tried calling her several times throughout the day, but when it became clear she wasn’t going to answer he reigned in the phone calls. He waited nearly ten minutes, staring vacantly at all the one sided messages on the screen before he accepted tonight was not the night she’d finally text back. He set his phone on the nightstand, volume up all the way just incase.

All the losers closed their eyes and fell asleep, feeling more a part of something than they had in twenty seven years. Far below Derry, at the same time the other’s drifted off to sleep, Eddie Kaspbrak opened his eyes.


End file.
